...two things for certain...

...i like her...and i'm just realizing it. i like her...and i don't even know her. i do...i really like her...and i don't even know if i'm supposed to. so i do what i do in most situations...i say fuck it. hell yeah, i like her...and why wouldn't i? she's good. i'd love to say great, but once again, i don't know her...

...even though she doesn't speak much, at least not to me, she's said so much. she makes me think...while i'm wide awake...about more than most could evision in their most spirited dreams...and my thoughts are usually not even about her. i think about losing my credit card on dover street...about how i should have told the waitress "peux j'avoir plus de citron presse"...about how water really works...she's made me talk...about how much better a deck of cards would be if there were two suits and four colors...about how, in actuality, i think everyone probably has the same favorite color...

...now, she has me writing...about her. about her slim frame...with areas not so slim. the smooth caramel skin, almost polished...the pitch-dark strands of silk she calls hair. her perfect lips...full and smooth, all at once...waiting...wanting...to call a name. and it doesn't have to be mine. as long as i can listen. as long as i can watch. her deep, dark eyes...obsidian...so void of this world and so full of truth. her style...its everything...from every runway and every magazine.

...there is only one problem. i don't know her...and i don't know if i'm supposed to. of course, i want to...would probably ask to...but it doesn't always work like that...so i'll wait. not on her. but on me. until i'm ready...until i'm able to give her the same feelings she gives me. maybe more.

...i can't say i want her...because i don't know her. sounds like a perfect excuse to get to know her, eh?

yes, it does...because she is...as far as i know...what i want.